All's Fair In Love And War (Working Title)
by theMusicdork94
Summary: Supernatural AU 16 year old Dean Winchester is sent to Camp Leviticus, a Christian camp for queer teens to help them "establish a relationship with God and accept their sins." But there's a flaw in system, as Camp Leviticus is where Dean meets the innocent yet adorable Castiel Novak, and the two grow a little too close for the camp's comfort.


As I felt the bus finally come to a stop, I yanked out my headphones and stuffed them in my pocket. AC/DC would usually cheer me up, but in this moment, I was far too heated for any classic rock to help me. I stood up and made my way to the front of the bus to get off. I would have pushed the other people out of the way just to assert my dominance and affirm my aggression, but I was apparently the only gay kid in the ten-mile radius that this particular bus to Camp Leviticus stops at. At least I didn't have to talk to anyone, not that anyone going to a gay-cure camp would want to talk much; all the kids here were probably like me−pissed off and sexually frustrated. I couldn't believe my dad had reacted so harshly when I came out to him.

"You're sixteen years old Dean," he'd said, well, more like shouted. "You're too young to be thinking this way. You don't know what you want yet?" Yeah, dad? Is that why you knocked up mom when you were 17? Because _you_ sure as hell knew what you wanted then.

After a long lecture about sex and its purpose is only to procreate and how I have a soul mate out there who will go lonely because I'll be too caught up in my own world of sodomy, drugs, and poverty to notice her and how I would end up in hell for it, I raced off to my room, and for the first time since my mom died after Sammy was born, I cried. Damn it, Dean. You're sixteen fucking years old, and you _don't_ fucking cry.

Shaking the memory out of my head, I hopped off the bus onto the dirt road, flinging dust and debris up into my face. Rubbing the dirt from my eyes, I looked around at the place I'd be living for the next month and a half. The sun was far too bright, despite the place being surrounded by a forest. There was no pavement anywhere, just dirt roads leading to a lake, a set of four cabins, a mess hall, and a shower area. Were they stupid or what? They want us not to look at naked guys, yet they make us shower together? There's a flaw in this system, not that I ever doubted there was. Before I left, I guaranteed my dad that when I returned, his son would be as gay as ever, to which he responded, "No. Not my son." That was the last thing he'd said to me before I rushed to the back of the bus and plugged my headphones in to shut out the world.

"You must be Dean Winchester," came an annoyingly peppy voice from behind me. Turning around, I was faced with what I assumed was one of the camp counselors. She was tall and slender and had long, straight blond hair, that I thought was probably the only straight thing at this camp, and large brown eyes that seemed to stare into my soul. She beamed at me with metal teeth. "I'm Becky, your camp counselor! Come with me and meet the other kids!" I rolled my eyes at this nerdy chick, who couldn't have been more than two years older than me, and followed her up a steep hill to the mess hall.

Inside, there were more kids than I would have imagined being here. It really made me hate humanity even more to think that all these kids had such horrible parents that they would send them away sooner than learn to accept their own kin. It sickened me. There were about twelve long tables filled with kids. Some of the kids looked way too young to be thinking about sex at all, let alone their sexual orientation, and some of the kids looked like they didn't belong here at all. Then again, when I came out to Sammy, he was completely shocked, seeing as I'd hit on girls ever since I was able to talk, but I guess that was just because I had been told that boys should like girls. I'd seen it on TV, in the movies, read it in magazines (not that I read much). The boy always gets the girl. It wasn't even until my freshman year in high school that I even knew what being gay was, and it was at that point that I had started noticing guys more. I noticed their butts in the locker rooms, and always had to hide my hard-on. I noticed how I suddenly wanted to play with my friend Max's hair, and hold his hand, and kiss him. And that was when I realized that I was gay. Sammy and I had managed to keep it a secret for two years, but I had finally worked up the courage to tell my dad.

I wish I was a coward.

Becky sat me down at the second to last table, next to some butch chick who was showing off her muscles to all of the girls at the table, most of whom seemed to swoon over them. I didn't really understand the whole "muscles" fetish. I mean, sure, I had a bit of muscle mass, and my abs were nothing to be ashamed of, but that was more for me than for anybody else. I found that I felt better and healthier when I worked out, and working out was a great steam-blower. Whenever I was upset about something, I'd lift some weights, do some push-ups, and I'd be fine. It beats punching the wall, like I used to do. I'm surprised my dad didn't send me to a camp for _that_. On the other side of me was a scrawny white kid with hair so long it covered his entire face that reminded me of the chick from _The Ring_.

"Hey," the long haired kid said, pushing his hair out of his face to reveal his abnormally pale skin and glowing green eyes. "I'm Cadmus." He held out a shaky right hand to shake, which I hastily took. "Dean Winchester," I replied.

"You're kinda cute, Dean Winchester."

"Keep dreamin', Samara." I said, dropping his hand and quickly moving to find a different spot.

The tables were filled, but not to the point that there was no extra space. I slipped in between some fashion diva putting lipstick on, making sure not to get any in his thin wisps of a mustache, and some weird kid with dark hair and a trench coat. What the fuck? Who wears a trench coat to summer camp?

"Says the greaser wannabe in the leather jacket."

Oops, did I say that out loud? "Hey, sorry, man, I didn't mean to offen−" Turning around to face him, I nearly lost my composure. Sitting to my left was the most beautiful face I'd ever seen in my life. I once again found myself wanting to play with a man's hair. It was so dark and sleek and...playable. I imagined myself running my fingers through it as our eyes met. His blue eyes stared past my skin and into my mind. And his jaw line was so adequately sculpted, coated with the light dust of a day with no shave. It was then that I realized I had stopped in the middle of my sentence, and the boy had a look of confusion on his gorgeous face. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if my comment offended you." His voice was rugged and deep, not what you would expect from a teenage boy at a gay camp, and it rung in my ears and forever settled into my mind. I would not forget this voice.

"Yeah, yeah, man, I'm fine. Sorry, I just...got distracted my something..." I shook myself out of my thoughts and reached out my right hand. "Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you."

The boy stared at my hand confusedly for a moment before taking my hand in his grasp and shaking it. "Castiel. Castiel Novak." Castiel, what an odd sounding name. And yet, it was beautiful.

Castiel and I started talking about how stupid the camp was and how we would never really change who we were, at which point Cas came out to me as pansexual. "What's pansexual?" I asked.

"It's where you don't really take gender into consideration when you find somebody you're attracted to. I'm attracted to people anywhere in the gender spectrum." Gender spectrum? Weren't there only two genders? Cas explained to me that gender, like sexuality, is fluid; there are different ends of the spectrum that people can identify with, that weren't just your biological gender.

Man, this shit's confusing.

After a couple minutes of us talking, there was a loud feedback noise coming from the front of the cafeteria. We all flinched and clasped our ears as we looked for the source of the sound. "Welcome, God's children," said a middle-aged woman with maroon hair on a small stage at the front of the building. I rolled my eyes. "Welcome to Camp Leviticus. I am Marcina, your camp director. Do you all know why you're here?" Because I'm a faggot whose dad can't accept him for who he is. "Because God loves you, and He worries about you. He senses that you've all lost your way, and He wants to help. Your brothers and sisters around you are all going through the same crisis you are. It's a tough time in your life, where you're just finding out what you want, and what you've discovered will lead you through a life of sin and an eternity in hell. But fear not, for we, your camp counselors and I, are here to help! For we are the messengers of God!"

"Yeah, and I'm an angel of the Lord," Cas muttered next to me as I stifled a chuckle.

"Each counselor has received a list of children, and they will be _your_ camp counselor. They should have already met with you at the gates. Everyone in your group will be in your cabin, and will be the group that you interact with for the majority of your stay here." I secretly hoped that Castiel was in my group.

"Hey," I whispered. "Who's your counselor?"

"Becky," he whispered back. "You?"

I couldn't help but smile from ear to ear. "Yeah, same. Looks like we're roomies."

Marcina droned on and on about the stupid activities we'd have to do here, and how each morning we would have a prayer session where we prayed to God to forgive our sins. It's a load of malarkey. I didn't buy into this God crap to save my life. And there was _no_ way I'd end up in hell.

After Marcina finally stopped talking, Cas and I went to meet up with Becky, where she led us to our cabin to get our stuff situated. I had only brought a duffel bag with a week's worth of clothes, so I hoped there was a way I could do laundry here. I shoved the duffel bag under the bottom bunk of one of the beds. Cas did the same. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked.

"Not at all," he asked. "My bed is your bed_." _I hope he didn't realize the connotation behind that.

"Good," he said. "So, top or bottom?"

"What?" I spat.

"Which bunk did you want?"

"Oh." I needed to get my mind out of the gutter. "Um, it doesn't matter to me. You pick."

"I'd prefer to be on the bottom." Sure you would, Cas. I think my face had permanently frozen into a snicker. Cas started pulling out his sheets and I climbed up ladder and plopped down on the top bunk. Day One and I had already made a friend. Maybe this camp wouldn't be so bad.


End file.
